کتاب 07-02

2

Her first thought was: It can’t be that easy.

She turned the page, hoping for more, but that was it. After that, the notebook was blank.

Rain fell. It hammered on the tin roof in a continuous rattle and crash. The rain had been falling ten hours straight. Sometimes trees fell, too. Harper had woken to the sound of one going over somewhere close by, with a great creak and a floor-shaking smash. The wind struck the infirmary again and again, one battering rush after another. It was like the end of the world out there. But then every day was like the end of the world now, come rain or shine.

Harper had not imagined there was anything left in the diary to learn, let alone shock her. Martha Quinn was real. The island was a real place.

Nick was watching her carefully: no surprise there. Harper had long since quit trying to keep the notebook secret from him. It was, in the narrow confines of the ward, impossible anyway. She met his intense, unwavering, curious gaze. He did not ask if she had read something important. He knew.

It was a Lookout named Chuck Cargill in the waiting room that night. He had walked in on Harper two hours ago, when she had her sweater off and was rubbing lotion on the pink curve of her stupendous belly. She had a bra on, but Cargill was nevertheless so alarmed to find her in a state of undress he had dropped the breakfast tray he was carrying on the counter with a clatter, as if it had suddenly become too hot to handle. He reeled backward, stammering some sort of incoherent apology, and ducked back out through the curtain. Ever since, he had been careful to clear his throat, knock on the doorframe, and ask for permission to come in. Harper thought he might never be able to make eye contact with her again.

She also thought if she wanted to get the phone down out of the ceiling, he probably wouldn’t walk in on her while she was using it. No one else would, either. Even Ben Patchett wasn’t going to do spot inspections on a night like tonight.

Harper turned the straight-backed chair around and climbed unsteadily onto it. She reached into the ceiling, found the cell phone, and climbed back down. Nick stared at her—at it—with wide, fascinated, wondering eyes. She gestured with her head: Come over here.

They walked to the far end of the ward, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the curtain into the waiting area. Harper and Nick sat down side by side on the edge of Father Storey’s cot, with their backs to the doorway into the next room. If Cargill did suddenly walk in, the phone would be concealed by their bodies and she might have time to shut it down and stick it under the mattress.

She squeezed the power button. The screen flashed gray, then a deep obsidian black. The battery life was a whopping 9 percent.

Harper pulled up the browser and loaded marthaquinninmaine.